


Road Map (Consol Energy Center / Fifth Avenue)

by Raven17



Series: Road Map [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Breathplay, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Road Map, Stretcher Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven17/pseuds/Raven17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Randy Orton catches up to Seth Rollins on the Road to Wrestle Mania 2015.  After RAW went off-air, Seth was taken off on a stretcher.  My imagination ensues...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Map (Consol Energy Center / Fifth Avenue)

“Dean…” The name fell from his lips like a mantra as they maneuvered the stretcher from ringside. He closed his eyes. He was in a neck brace, head immobilized, and the only place to look was up. The arena lights were glaring.

He could picture Dean, pacing backstage, impatiently waiting for when he’d be let up from the stretcher he was strapped to. And Dean would be there. And he would be pacing. The man didn’t know how to sit, or, more specifically, sit still. He was constantly in motion to take the edge off of nervous energy. It used to drive him and Roman crazy when they shared a locker room and spent twenty hours of a twenty-four hour day in each other’s company.

“Dean…” He mumbled again. He wasn’t sure why. They’d only just become friendly again after the separation—alright, the _betrayal_. Sure, it was all scripted, but that was the thing with scripts, wasn’t it? Sometimes the script bled into real life, and it screwed up things that it had no right screwing up. Things like friendships. Brotherhoods. 

Trying to keep kayfabe was important, and recommended, and it worked for many of the wrestlers, but not for him and Dean. There had always been… something… between them. Something that only grew when they were put together as part of The Shield. The betrayal hurt, but keeping kayfabe afterwards only hurt more.

“He’s backstage.” One of the EMTs took pity on him as the stretcher’s wheels bounced along the diamondplate entry ramp, jostling his already sore body. 

God he was sore. His head hurt. His back hurt. Everything hurt, but his head and back hurt a little more than everything else. Orton had been vicious. He could feel the sting still on his back from where one of the chair shots had cut him open. He was pretty sure he had a mild concussion. The lights were still blurry and _too bright_ when he opened his eyes.

He’d blacked out for a second after the RKO into the announce table. Everything had gone pleasantly dark and mercifully silent, but only for a moment. He’d lain there for longer before EMT services and medical staff arrived, taking stock of his own body. He could have moved, but the plan was to have him carted off so it looked good, looked like Randy had gotten a measure of revenge.

Randy worked a little stiff.

He hadn’t had to fake the groan when they rolled him onto the backboard.

“Hey… you okay?”

He shook his head—more rolled it from side-to-side—to clear the cobwebs, pleased to find that he could—the orange pads that fit around his head were gone. His mumbled, “huh?” came out more like a groan, low and breathy.

Somebody snapped their fingers in front of his face. “Hey! Rollins!”

He opened his eyes to see Dean looking down at him. Just Dean. The EMTs were gone, they were alone in a concrete-walled hallway behind the curtain. He could hear the bustle of staff and other wrestlers further in the bowels of the CONSOL Energy Center, but here it was just the two of them.

He tried to push himself up from the stretcher, but the strap across his chest was still tight and held him in place. “Let…”

“I kinda like you strapped down.” Dean mused thoughtfully.

“Dean.”

“Should at least… make sure you’re okay.” Dean murmured, hands running over Seth’s chest, fingers seeking out and finding the spot over his ribs that would likely be bruised by tomorrow.

Seth’s breath caught in his throat, as a combination of pain and pleasure—though he wasn’t about to admit that to Dean. 

“Orton got you good…” Dean continued moving his hands over Seth’s chest, moving them lower, over defined abdominals, and lower, to prominent hip bones. He pushed Seth’s hips down and pressed his nose into Seth’s abdomen, nuzzled the skin and hair there.

He’d watched, from backstage, on one of the many monitors located around the common areas, in catering, in the Authority’s rooms. Roman had watched with him once he’d gotten backstage after pinning Seth. How long had Roman watched? Dean didn’t remember him leaving, but he hadn’t been there when Orton left Seth in a heap atop a deconstructed announce table, wires and chairs.

He held Seth’s hips tighter at the memory, breathed in the heady smell of sweat and blood that clung to Seth’s body. He stayed there for a moment, face pressed into Seth’s belly before slowly starting to move again, fingers first digging into bone, followed by palms rubbing roughly along sweat-slicked skin to where it met black pleather.

“M’fine.” Seth managed as Dean’s hands moved lower, dipping beneath the waistbands of both his Under Armour boxer briefs and pants, tugging down until they sat even with the strap at his thighs. Blood rushed to his cock, and despite the cool air and slight feeling of humiliation (or maybe because of it?) he could feel his cock thickening and hardening.

The bindings of the stretcher held his chest and arms, thighs and shins tight. His cock jutted obscenely from above the belt of pants that had been shoved roughly down. He was sure he’d have marks from the drag of material over skin on his hips, his ass.

“Like that, do you?” Dean moistened his lips. “Should’ve known you’d be into the kinky shit.”

“I’m no…” Seth started to protest. He wasn’t into the ‘kinky shit’, or at least whatever Dean’s idea of ‘kinky shit’ was. Sure, he liked a blow job in the car as much as the next guy, but…

Dean swallowed him down then, stopping all trace of coherent thought, and there was nothing he could do but take it and hope no one walked into the hallway they were tucked away in. He wondered idly if that made it more exciting—the possibility of being discovered. Maybe he _was_ into the ‘kinky shit’… a little bit.

Things were still somewhat blurry, so he kept his eyes closed as Dean’s tongue laved attention on him. He could hear the sounds of exertion—panting, grunting, moaning… how close were they to the ramp that he could hear the wrestlers as they returned from their matches?

“Shhhh, Seth, don’t want anyone to find us.” Dean chided, one arm reaching up blindly to lay a palm over his mouth, close under his nostrils, and it was only then, as he was silenced, that he realized the sounds were coming from him.

Dean kissed his way up Seth’s belly, chest, to his throat, stopping at his chin. “Not that I don’t like the sounds you make when you’re underneath me…” He used the hand that wasn’t clamped over Seth’s mouth to wrap around his cock, alternated gentle, smooth strokes with experimental rougher jerks that had Seth’s eyes widening when he couldn’t breathe as easily around Dean’s palm.

The added fear brought a sense of urgency and heightened desperation as Seth’s hips bucked the best they could, seeking that last bit of friction that would allow him to come. It made every sensation that much more… acute. It seemed he could feel every callous on Dean’s fingers as they worked their way up and down his over-sensitive dick, every slight change in pressure, movement…

Dean leaned into him, pressed him further into the stretcher that creaked and shifted under the extra weight. “Is this what you want, Seth?” He snapped his wrist, twisting around Seth’s cock, and he could feel Seth’s hips lifting from the stretcher, his entire body taut and tensed and… “Should I keep you right here? On the edge? Just a touch away from being able to come?”

He gently squeezed thumb and forefinger around the base of Seth’s cock, nipped at the pulse point of Seth’s neck with his teeth and raised his eyes to look up the column of Seth’s neck, over his bearded chin. He could see the way Seth’s eyes fluttered between open and closed, could see the tic beneath the skin as Seth’s jaw worked against the pressure of his hand.

“Nngghh…” Seth’s voice was strangled, muffled by Dean’s hand as he tried to plead with Dean to let him come, struggled against the unforgiving nylon straps on the stretcher that held him down and kept him at Dean’s mercy.

“God, you’re such a kinky slut…” Dean murmured as he pressed slightly against Seth’s mouth and nose, forcing his chin up and back, making it just a little bit harder for Seth to breathe easily.

He moved his fingers from around Seth’s cock to slowly slide his middle finger along the crease between Seth’s balls, dragged the fingernail back, eliciting a muffled cry from the smaller man. “Like that?” Dean asked, repeating the process before fisting Seth’s cock loosely and pumping.

A low sound came from Seth’s throat, almost a growl, and he tried to lift his hands to touch Dean, but couldn’t. He jerked against his restraints and moaned pleadingly. 

“Come for me, Seth…” Dean whispered as he dragged his thumb across Seth’s slit on the upstroke and pressed Seth’s head back even further, baring his neck. “Come for me…” He fixed his mouth to the throbbing vein on Seth’s neck and sucked, biting down less-than-gently. There would be a mark.

Seth exploded at the pain-pleasure of Dean’s bite, spilling thick ropes of come across his belly, Dean’s hand, and Dean’s tee shirt where it hung between them. 

Dean released his hold on Seth’s face and gently worked him through his orgasm until the touch was too much for Seth and he whimpered, lips curling to bare teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath. “De…”

“Shh…” Dean smirked as he straightened up, wiping a hand through the come on his tee shirt, smudging it into the material. “Gonna have to change my tee shirt… kinky bastard.” He chuckled, wiping his hand near the hem of the shirt.

Seth snorted. “Wasn’t ‘til I met you…” He breathed, tried to lift his arm but let it go limp when the nylon strap cut into it. 

He hadn’t been into anything kinky before Dean. He hadn’t even tried anything kinky, unless you considered bottoming kinky. All of his previous relationships—alright, his only previous relationship—had been pretty… boring?... when it came to sex, which was not quite what he’d expected, considering the company he kept, and the rumors that surrounded indie wrestling. 

But he didn’t have time to think about that now. He had to get to medical and get checked out so he could get back to the hotel and get some sleep before his flight in the morning. He was fine—he’d treated himself for worse in the indies, and it was nothing a night’s sleep wouldn’t fix—but there were safety regulations that had to be followed.

“L’me up?” Seth asked.

“Mmm…” Dean’s fingers deftly worked on the quick-fit straps, loosening and unstrapping them, freeing Seth, who sat up too quickly, bringing a hand to his head when the gray concrete walls blurred. “Easy, Seth.”

“M’okay.” Seth moved to swing his feet to the floor, standing on shaky legs. He pulled pants and underwear up with one hand, leaning on the stretcher with the other. 

Dean gripped his elbow without a word, steadying him. “Ten AM flight?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Seth stared at the floor and took a tentative first step, curling an arm around his ribs protectively.

“Share a cab?” 

Seth looked up at Dean and smiled. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.” He said, shuffling out of the alcove, leaving Dean behind with the stretcher.

“Hey, Seth.” Dean called, and when Seth turned, he tossed his tee shirt at him, motioning to Seth’s come-spattered belly. “Might want to… clean up a bit… before you go to medical.”

Seth glanced down at the drying come on his eight-pack abs, Dean’s shirt fisted in one hand near his hip. “Yeah…” He held up the shirt before wiping it over his middle. “Thanks.”


End file.
